


Order and Control

by thegizka



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegizka/pseuds/thegizka
Summary: When Bruce is exposed to a dangerous virus, he quarantines to prevent further spread until the Justice League can develop an antidote.  Unfortunately, his children keep ignoring his orders.Written for Writer's Month 2020 Day 2:  Quarantine.Note:  I do not own any aspect of DC or Batman.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Justice League & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 218
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Order and Control

**Author's Note:**

> I have no medical knowledge to speak of so I'm sorry if there are any rampant errors.

Bruce waited until the lock on the hidden door clicked behind him before turning on any lights. This safehouse was unlikely to be discovered, carved into the mountains of Montana with no one in a hundred mile radius, but now was no time to be lax in security. He moved through the small kitchen and sitting area, bypassed the bed, and tapped a pattern on the stone wall to open an access panel. After entering the correct security codes, the wall folded away to reveal a secret room housing a computer and an assortment of equipment that might be useful in a pinch. Someone had left an empty bag of chips in the bin beneath the computer desk. He made a mental note to remind his children of the importance of discarding all traces of themselves when leaving safehouses.

A few minutes later, he’d turned on the computer and connected to his network. Bouncing his signal around the globe to discourage tracking, he sent a message to the Watchtower. A second later, Clark appeared in a video feed.

“I take it you made it safely?”

“I’m here,” Bruce grunted. “Were you able to find any trace of this thing?”

“Barry and Victor are still in the lab analyzing the samples you sent. They haven’t found anything yet.”

“How are you feeling?” Diana asked, leaning into the frame.

“Fine so far.”

“You should have come back to the Watchtower. The investigation would move faster if we could monitor you more closely.”

“We all saw the bodies,” he growled. “Minimizing exposure is the priority. If we can stop these bioterrorists before they release this virus, we won’t need a vaccine.”

“You need it.” Clark frowned. Bruce knew he agreed with Diana and would prefer Bruce isolate closer to people who could care for him.

“I will run what tests I can here and link them to the Watchtower. I trust Barry and Victor will find the solution.”

“Do you need anything?” Diana asked. “We can be there in a heartbeat.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “Don’t. And don’t tell anyone where I am. No one can know.”

Clark and Diana exchanged a look that said they didn’t agree with him about this either. But they had seen the horrors this virus had done to these bioterrorists’ test subjects. They knew it was too dangerous to risk.

“We won’t,” Diana promised.

“Stay safe, Bruce.”

“You too.”

The video went blank. Bruce sat in the silence of the safehouse for a moment. He had stared at his own death so many times that he wasn’t scared for himself. He was just frustrated that he couldn’t be on the front lines with the rest of the Justice League. He had been foolish to investigate alone, stumbling onto the test site and inhaling the virus from a partially-empty canister. He should have been more careful.

With a sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and began preparing the science equipment that he had at his disposal. He’d already shed his suit and secured it in an impermeable bag. He would set up a secure, sanitized lab space and swab it for residue, though so far the only traces they’d detected had been found in biomatter. He would take frequent blood and breath samples, both to monitor his condition and try to isolate the strain for vaccine fabrication.

There were a lot of tests to run. It would be a long night.

\-----

Bruce awoke late in the morning noticing two alarming things. The first was that his throat felt sore. It wasn’t a sign of dehydration. He had been careful to drink plenty of fluids to help his body remain strong as it fought against the virus. The second was a vehicle pulling into the hidden garage and killing its engine.

He scrambled to the computer to pull up the security camera. The fact that someone had found the entrance and not set off any alarms meant it was someone who knew this safehouse. It was probably one of his kids.

Sure enough, he saw a mop of familiar dark hair emerge from a compact sports car. A shorter, crisper head of hair jumped out of the passenger seat. A jolt of fear chilled Bruce’s spine, accompanied by a waterfall of questions. Had they touched the Batmobile parked next to them? Had he brushed against the walls on his way to the entrance last night? Had he remembered to disinfect the door?

“Dick, Damian, don’t move,” he called through the comm system he’d had installed three years ago. He saw them stop. Bless them for having the sense to listen.

“Father, what is going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here. Go back to Gotham,” he ordered.

“B, are you okay?” Dick took a step forward, and the panic spiked again.

“I am. I’m just busy. I need you to watch Gotham for a few days.”

“Are you working on the bioterrorism case?” Damian demanded. He shouldn’t have known about that.

“Vic told us you may have been exposed,” Dick explained. “Babs got a ping of activity from this safehouse last night, so we came to see if you were okay.”

His eldest son always did have a bleeding heart. He let his emotions override his good sense.

“If I have been exposed, that’s reason for you to leave. I can’t spread it to anyone else.”

“If you are in danger, Father, we should help you.”

“You can help by keeping watch over Gotham until this is over.”

“But-”

“Come on, Damian.” Dick took his brother’s shoulder gently. “There’s nothing we can do here right now.”

The youngest Wayne resisted for a moment. Bruce saw so much of his own stubbornness in him.

“Be safe, Father,” he ordered before turning back to the car.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, B,” Dick called.

“Take care of them, Dick. I’ll be back soon.”

A modicum of relief returned when he watched them drive away, but he couldn’t shake the unease their arrival had caused. He was surprised they’d found him so quickly. It was a little upsetting that Cyborg felt more loyalty for his former Titans teammate than the Justice League, but Dick had that sort of magnetic pull. Bruce felt guilty for forcing his eldest into the responsibility of Batman’s duties and watching over his siblings, but it couldn’t be helped. He just hoped he could keep the rest of them away and safe.

He reached for a glass of water to try and soothe his throat. A basic medical check revealed no fever and an average heart rate. He pricked his finger for a blood sample. He hadn’t found anything decipherable from the tests he ran last night, perhaps because the virus had been too new in his body. Hopefully today’s efforts would be more fruitful. He popped a lemon cough drop into his mouth and got to work.

\-----

Late that night, the purr of two motorcycle engines signalled new visitors. Bruce was still awake, pouring over data from the case and taking notes on the progression of his infection. Most of the potential side effects could be attributed to the strain of his night life, but until they had a better understanding of this virus, he was meticulous in his documentation.

The security feed revealed Jason and Stephanie parking their bikes near the garage wall. They must have spoken with Dick because they wore respirators and chemical-repellant suits. Jason had towed in a trailer piled up with equipment of some sort, indicating they intended to be there for a while. The chill of panic returned. This was not good.

“You two need to leave,” he ordered using the comms. His sore throat and lack of conversation made his voice sound hoarse. He reached for his water.

“Hey Bruce, you don’t sound so good. Are you doing okay?” Stephanie asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. To support his claim, his voice came through more clearly. “I’d be better if you both left.”

“No can do,” Jason grunted, lifting a stack of tarps sealed in plastic out of the trailer. “We’re under orders from Alfred to make sure you don’t die. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted, starting to feel helpless. They couldn’t be here. The risk was too great. “I am ordering you to leave.”

“Too bad, Old Man. I stopped following your orders years ago, and Stephie ain’t your kid or your Robin. Your orders mean nothing to us.”

“Alfred’s, however,” Stephanie interjected, “sure do. But don’t worry; he gave us very specific instructions on how to disinfect everything and keep you safely quarantined while we help. You’ll be in good hands.”

He didn’t need to be in good hands; they did, and them being here was not safe. But they had obviously come with the intention of staying, and they were more likely to ignore him than his other kids. He wanted to argue, but he had to turn away to cough. His throat felt raw, and it took him a while to regain his breath. By the time he looked back at the garage feed, they had finished unloading and were going about Alfred’s instruction.

“Please,” he croaked in a final effort to discourage them, “just leave.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Stephanie asked, ignoring his plea.

“Save your strength Old Man. We’re not going anywhere.”

Bruce sighed. He didn’t have the energy to argue with them. At least they were taking safety precautions. They pulled one of the tarps over the Batmobile and sealed the edge to the garage floor with tape. Jason started constructing a portable sanitizing chamber right in front of the door while Stephanie grabbed cleaning materials and went about fumigating every exposed surface.

“Make sure you ventilate properly,” Bruce instructed. She raised a hand in a thumb’s up to acknowledge his advice but didn’t pause her work.

“Hey Bruce,” Jason said, laying tarps over the framework and sealing them tightly, “Dick seems to think this is pretty bad. Is it?”

“You’d be more helpful working with the League to find the source, not here.”

“You never do answer our questions,” he grumbled. “That’s only going to make them worry more, you know.”

Bruce noticed that he’d said “them”, and it stung a little that Jason had omitted himself. He wondered if he had ever felt like part of the family, or if Bruce’s cascading screw-ups as a mentor and father had driven him away. Even now, he had no idea how to connect with him.

“Get some rest, Old Man,” Jason said, sorting through filtration hoses to hook up the sanitizing system in the chamber. “Steph and I don’t need you supervising if you’re not going to help.”

Bruce couldn’t think of anything to say, so he turned back to analyzing the data from the case. He kept the security feed up in the corner of the computer screen so he could check on them while he worked. There was some comfort in that.

\-----

He awoke the next morning disoriented. His throat burned, and his breath felt slow to fill his lungs. He was fairly certain he had fallen asleep at the computer in the safehouse, but the conversation he was hearing was reminiscent of days in the Manor.

“Sleep.”

“He has to get up at some time, Cass. Otherwise the food Jason made will go to waste.”

“And I need to ask him some questions about this data.”

“Tim, have you heard anything else from Leslie?”

“No.”

“So even the doc is stumped.”

“She has assured me that the best resources will be allocated to our mission. Pennyworth will contact us as soon as progress is made.”

“Vic is monitoring her research, too. He’ll let us know if the League comes up with anything.”

“It’s kind of nice having a friend in the League. We used to have to hack the Watchtower to get their data.”

“The old man would have a conniption if he knew.”

“Security breeeach,” Tim growled in a Batman parody voice.

“Con-nip? Shun?”

“One word. It’s basically a tantrum,” Barbara translated automatically.

“Don’t worry about learning it, Cain. Todd is the only one who speaks with such outdated language.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call your wallet a pocket book the other day, so maybe rethink that statement.”

Bruce sat up slowly. His limbs felt heavy, and both feet tingled from a lack of oxygen. He could tell this wasn’t normal fatigue. He’d pushed his body to its natural breaking point often enough to feel the difference. He felt as though he were barely in control of himself.

“Hey guys, it looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Barbara called. “Hi Bruce.”

A chorus of voices and a jumble of words penetrated the ringing in his ears. There was a new video feed on his computer. Glancing at the security feed, he saw that someone had set up a sort of control center in the garage. Wires criss-crossed between the monitors and blinking machines, disappearing into carefully concealed access points in the floor and wall. Tim and Barbara were camped in the center of it all, but everyone crowded together when they heard he was awake.

“How are you feeling B?” Dick asked. He and Damian had returned, bringing Cassandra, Tim, and Barbara with them. The growing number of people camping in the garage was perplexing, especially when he wanted everyone to stay away for their safety.

He tried to say he was fine, but his voice wouldn’t work. He devolved into a coughing fit. It took a good minute to catch his breath afterwards. He wished he didn’t have to see the looks of worry on their faces.

“There’s a nebulizer outside the door in the sanitizing chamber. Leslie provided some medicine that might help,” Tim said.

“Jason made some soup, too,” Stephanie added.

“Alfred’s worried about you living on whatever freeze-dried nonperishable shit you have in there.”

“Language, Todd.”

“Can you get up, or should I bring it to you?” Barbara asked.

“No,” Bruce croaked, the panic oozing through him.

“Relax Bruce, we have a robot we can send in,” Tim reassured him. “We won’t get anywhere near you.”

“We have thought of everything, Father. Do not resist this care.”

Barbara tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and Bruce heard the lock on the door slide. A moment later, the mechanical whirring of wheels grew gradually louder. A multi-tiered platform rolled into the room. A sealed bowl of soup sat on one shelf, the condensation on the lid indicating it had been packaged some time ago. Someone had placed a few bottles of water next to it. A portable nebulizer sat below it with a bag of medication and supplements from Leslie’s clinic.

“You should let me drive that sometime,” Stephanie whispered to Tim as the robot came to a stop. The lock on the door clicked back into place in the other room.

“When you get a chance,” Tim said, “I have a few questions about the data you gathered from the test site.”

“Hang on there, Timmy. The guy just woke up. Let him eat his soup in peace.”

“This is a time-sensitive issue, Todd. The sooner we get information, the sooner we can stop these terrorists and help Father.”

“Eat, then questions,” Cassandra insisted.

“I agree,” Dick declared. Bruce could see the intention to argue further leave his siblings. Did he know how influential he was over them? “The League and half of our contacts are working on this. We can spare twenty minutes to let Bruce eat in peace.”

“It’s time for patrol anyway,” Jason announced, pushing himself away from the crowd. “Demon Spawn, you’re coming with me. All this motor traffic may have caused some curiosity and suspicion.”

“From what? Mountain goats?” he scoffed, but he followed Jason out of the garage. Bruce was surprised he hadn’t commented on the nickname.

“Clean plate club,” Cassandra said, looking straight at Bruce through the camera. She was serious enough to make him chuckle, but his throat couldn’t muster the sound. She followed her brothers out to patrol.

“I’m going to see if I can boost our signal now that there are seventeen machines trying to use our network,” Tim announced. “Want to help me, Steph?”

“Sure.” She skipped to catch up with him as he headed for the exit.

“No making out until you’re done,” Barbara called. “I want to see results!”

“You’re one to talk,” Stephanie teased before she and Tim disappeared.

That just left Dick and Barbara, the original Robin and Batgirl. Bruce opened the soup under their watchful eyes, moving carefully with his slow limbs. He knew they were waiting for him to say something, but they also knew to give him time. He didn’t mind their scrutiny as he sipped his soup, unable to handle more than little gulps with his sore throat and labored breaths. They would read into every movement he made to extrapolate how far the virus had progressed. Bruce wondered how much they had shared with the others.

“Gotham?” he whispered when the soup had soothed enough of his throat to give him a voice.

“Duke, Kate, Luke, and Harper are taking care of things. Alfred is coordinating from the Batcave. Dick reached out to Zatanna, and she’ll be around for backup. Everything’s under control.”

“You, on the other hand, have definitely looked better.” Concern was written all over Dick’s face.

“Have we found them yet?” he deflected, always dodging questions, always hiding behind the mask.

“The League has narrowed the attack down to three targets,” Dick shared. “They’re en route to stop it as we speak.”

“DC, Moscow, Shanghai,” Barbara listed, anticipating his follow-up question. She always was sharp. “A strike force already went to their base in the Canadian Rockies and cleared it out. This should all be over in an hour.”

So the end was in sight. No wonder everyone was so tense and had sought things to do while they waited. No wonder they had gathered together since they couldn’t be part of the counterstrike. He set down his spoon and focused on his breathing. He’d never been good at waiting on the sidelines either. His nonexistent appetite was gone.

“The comms,” he wheezed, reaching for the keyboard.

“No,” Barbara replied, her fingers typing some sequence that locked everything on his computer except the video feed. “You have to keep your heart rate steady. Any excitement will spread the virus faster.”

“There’s nothing you can do, B. Let the others handle it.”

He knew they were right, but he hated not knowing what was going on. He hated not having any control over it. He had never been good at relinquishing control, and now he had no choice. His body wasn’t responding the way it should, and his children had ignored every order to stay away. His control was falling apart.

“Hey,” Barbara said, pulling his mind back to the present, “don’t keep that spoon idle. You don’t want to disappoint Cass.”

Bruce obeyed and brought the spoon to his mouth, letting the soup trickle down his throat without tasting it.

“Antidote?” He didn’t trust his heavy tongue to form a full sentence coherently.

“Last we heard, they were analyzing an active sample to make sure they didn’t miss anything. They should have it done soon.”

“Leslie was a big help,” Dick said. “Tim sent her your tests and notes because, and I quote, ‘Barry is great but he usually works with dead bodies, and I’d like the expertise of someone who works on keeping them alive’. It was a good call.”

Bruce tried to chuckle again, but instead he coughed. With the stiffness of his lungs and muscles, he was left gasping for oxygen. His body wasn’t working right. He coughed again, and coughed and coughed and coughed. He heard Dick and Barbara calling to him through the monitor but he couldn’t stop coughing. He couldn’t get oxygen fast enough. His vision blurred, and the ringing in his ears grew louder, or maybe it was the shouting? He couldn’t tell anymore. It was just pain and coughing until his diaphragm ceased up and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. This was how it would end.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could only pray his kids wouldn’t enter the room and get infected.

Everything went dark.

\-----

Bruce came to with the disorienting feeling that he shouldn’t. His throat felt raw and his limbs felt heavy, but he could swallow and move. His body was tired, but his lungs filled with air without hesitation. His heart was beating. He had control.

He opened his eyes slowly. He was still in the Montana safehouse. Somehow he had been moved to the bed. He could hear the soft hums and beeps of medical equipment, as well as a low murmur of voices. The smell of cooking reached his nose. He was hungry.

Bruce carefully sat up so he could get a better look around. A pile of portable cots and sleeping bags had turned up in a corner. So had a rather large TV on which Dick and Damian were currently playing Cheese Viking. Tim was on his laptop on the couch, and Stephanie leaned against him, napping quietly. Barbara and Cassandra were at the table working on some language exercises. Jason and Duke were working in the kitchen under the careful guidance of Alfred. It seemed impossible to fit so many people in the small safehouse, yet here they were.

Ever vigilant, Alfred turned as though sensing the movement of his patient.

“Ah, Master Bruce, you are awake.”

“Hey, looking good Bruce,” Duke greeted, waving a wooden spoon.

“Well what do you know,” Jason said, stepping away from the stove to get a better look at him. “You came through faster than I was expecting.”

“That stir fry needs your attention, Master Jason. The rest of you, occupy yourselves while I look him over. You’ll have a chance to say all you want over dinner.”

With minimal grumbling, everyone returned to what they had been doing. Alfred’s word was law, even when they had outgrown taking orders from Batman and Bruce Wayne.

“How do you feel, sir?” the butler asked, checking some readings on the monitor next to the bed and proceeding through the routine of a medical check.

“Alive,” he rasped. “What happened?”

“Mr. Allen and Mr. Stone were able to fabricate a cure. It was en route to you when you collapsed and arrived just in the nick of time. Of course, the others had all rushed to your aid and exposed themselves before then, so you’ve all been ordered to quarantine for a few weeks to monitor your recovery and eliminate any chance of further spread.”

“The bioterrorists?”

“Successfully thwarted and captured. Once again, the Justice League saves the day.”

“It’s over,” he sighed, relaxing against the wall. Alfred gave him a wry look.

“For the rest of the world, yes. For you, it’s only just started. Your body must recover from the toxins, and on top of that, you have eight very strong, very different personalities to live with in a small space. I expect it will be a bit challenging for you.”

Bruce looked around at everyone. The teasing and familial bickering were already on display. No matter how many times he told them to behave, they still got up to mischief.

“Like herding cats,” he sighed. Alfred chuckled.

“More like herding bats, sir.”


End file.
